


One for the price, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go.

by Eulalia_writer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bullied Sherlock Holmes, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Feels, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eulalia_writer/pseuds/Eulalia_writer
Summary: What happens when John Watson, capitain of the high school football team, realizes he has feelings for Sherlock "the freak" Holmes?





	1. One for the money.

**Author's Note:**

> "One for the price, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go.".  
> I litterally wrote this instead of sleeping, cause I heard this "song" that I found out to be something children say when they start a race and I just ended up with this story.

There's no price to win. Then why am I still doing this?

Four times in a week, an it's just the beginning of March.  
I've been trying to find an answer, cause this question is making me sick.  
I've never been so keen on something unless I knew I'd get something in return.  
And what is worse is that I have nothing to win in protecting him.

My right eye is hurting and I know for sure that tomorrow I will have a dark bruise there.  
Right on my face, where everyone can see it.  
They'd point their fingers at me, murmuring _“look, he's the one that protects the freak”_.  
John Watson, the quarterback of the high school football team, protecting the weird guy from his bullies.

What's wrong with me? Why does it bother me so much?  
Anyone has his own business to mind. Mines are even worse than others'.  
Yet, here I am. Sitting next to him when our classes match, spending the break trying to have a chat with him. That weird guy that weird name and those beautiful eyes.

Sherlock Holmes.

There's no price. He has nothing to offer to me.

I stare at him across the sickroom. It is definitely not the first time we end up in this situation.  
Today, it has been almost twenty minutes since we entered this place and he is still looking for some kind of bandage for my bleeding hand.  
I meet his gaze, and all of sudden I realize why the hell am I still trying to win this game.

He do has something that I want to have.

He _is_ the price.

And I _do_ want him.

It's time to end the match.

 

 


	2. Two for the show.

He walks towards me, holding a small box in his pale hands, and starts to treat my knuckles.  
I stare back as he keeps his eyes on me while cleaning my skin from dried blood.

«Why?».

That was not the only word he'd heard him saying, but it sounded as if he'd been holding it back for ages.

«Cause I wanted to. Did I do it wrong?».

I realized so far that I'd used my flirty voice and I suddenly found myself breathing against his lips, as he was still bustling about my hand.

«No. It was just _-uhm-_ good. Thanks. But I suppose you want something in return.».

I notice his perfume is awesomely intoxicating as I smell it by accident from his neck when he leans over to pick up the tube that had just slipped out of his hands.

«You think I am  _that_ kind of boy, don't you?».

«You mean the one that never does something without being sure that he'll have something back? Why would you spend every minute of your free time trying be nice towards me?  _I am the weird one._ Yes, I think that's the reason why. And I am quite sure about it, actually.».

I grin and I bite the bullet, pretending that the cut on my fist is not hurting as it truly is and not paying too much attention to the fact that he was just assuming I wasn't supposed to like him just cause he was the  _“freak”_ .

«I am afraid you are right.» I state in a malicious voice – Oh, God, can anyone prevent me from flirting with him  _please?_

«What's it then? – he asks unkindly, throwing the dirty bandage into the rubbish bin and cleaning up the table from the medical stuff – Science notes? Solutions during the next chemistry test? Or some kind of weir-».

«You play the violin, don't you?».

My question gets him to stop in the middle of the room and prevents him from placing the first aid kit back to his place just for a few seconds: he goes on tidying up and talks out loud without turning back to face me.

«You know I do.».

«Have you ever had  _an audience?_ ».

«Does my parents spying on me while training count as an audience?».

«No.».

« _Then_ , no.».

« _Then_ I want to be your audience.».

 


	3. Three to get ready.

I still don't know how did I manage to do this, but I'm actually sitting in a white bedroom  _-his white bedroom_ \- and I'm waiting for him to begin his daily training.

His bed is covered in light blue sheets and the whole place is full of scientific stuff of any kind. He's standing silently next to his desk, staring off into space while his fingers tap rhythmically on the forehead of a skull he's just defined as “a friend of him”.  


He starts playing, and that melody is the most beautiful piece of music I've ever heard. He's so fascinating that I'd like to stop the passing of time just to stare at him.

The only light comes from the window he's facing and makes him look even more beautiful than he actually is. He walks while playing, but in fact his hands are firm.  
It's like he's not even thinking about it, not thinking about the world. Just playing his violin.

God, I wish I had done this ages ago.

He spies on me, pretending not to pay attention, but it's quite easy to understand that he's trying to get into my mind. He closes his eyes and he music changes.

My sister used to play violin when she was 15, but when things went bad, we had to sell it in order to pay the bills.  
Anyway she'd taught me a few things about music, enough to notice it.

«Is that vibrato or is your hand shaking?».

My question breaks the silence and he snaps his eyes open.

He stares at me, and I stare back.

Enough with playing.

Game over or match point.

 

 

 


	4. And four to go.

I stand up and walk towards him, then wait enough time just to let him remove the instrument from his shoulder and place it on the desk right next to us.

And I kiss him. I kiss him rudely. My hands are on him, pulling his hair and scrubbing his back through the snow-white shirt he's wearing.

«If-if this is just some kind of crappy joke, John Hamish Watson, be aware that I am capable of things you can't even imagine.» grunts him into my ear in a husky tone that I have just decided to be my favourite one.

«You were not supposed to know my second name!» I state in a suspicious voice, but I actually don't care too much about it.

«I know a lot of things, John.» how can he possibly make me so horny just by the tone of his voice?

«Then you'd probably know this is not a joke.».

«I just wanted to be sure.». His mouth is now on my neck and I am quite certain he's leaving dark bruises on my skin. Just like the one I got from the punch.

Where everyone can see them.  
They'd point their fingers at me, murmuring _“look, he's the one that hooks up with the freak”_.  
I must admit I wouldn't be that annoyed by such a reaction.

« _Back to those things you know …_ » I grab him and place him on the table. He moves the violin far enough for us not to break it, then comes back to kissing me.

«Which ones, John? Told you I know _lots_.».

«Just show me the most interesting ones about _-uhm-_ anthropology. Would you?».

«Anything more specific?».

«Anything about the reproductive system?».

He wraps his legs around my hips, holding me tight.

«You chose my favourite topic, you know? – he whispers against my lips, then starts to bustle about my belt – _We will have_ _so much to talk about, John_.».

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of this short story. I decided to cut it into four chapters so that it would be easier to divide the four different scenes connected with the refrain.  
> So, just let me know what you think about it and thanks for reading! ^-^


End file.
